Love on the Run
by Claire6
Summary: The more things change the more they stay the same.....Sydney's double agent status is compromised. SV


Love On the Run  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own any of the Alias characters (especially not Michael Vaughn, sob sob).   
  
Summary: S/V go on the run after Sloane discovers that she is a double agent.  
  
Timeline: AU around early Season 2. The only difference being that Sydney and Vaughn are together.  
  
Rating: Hmm I'm going with PG-13  
  
AN: I was going through my hard drive recently and found this piece that I wrote a while ago. I'm a bit hesitant about posting it because it just came out one day whilst taking a break from university work so if it makes no sense I apologise now!

Raising a weary hand, she checked the lock on the door again, knowing it had only been a minute since she had last checked it but also knowing that she would never get any sleep tonight unless she had ensured that they were safe. It was a routine that was now imbedded into her life. Just like it had become routine to look over her shoulder after every corner she rounded, and examine all the cars parked outside their apartment to verify that there were no abnormalities.  
  
It was just something she did now. It was not a huge change to her life because her previous double agent status had meant she was continuously alert for danger. Even moving all them miles across country had not dampened her training.  
  
_The more things change; the more they stay the same.  
_  
Satisfied that the door was locked and that every window was secure she crossed the small hallway to their bedroom and flicked off the hallway light. She leant on the doorway frame and took a moment to look at the sight in front of her. Vaughn was already fast asleep on his back, drained from his late shift at work. The duvet cover had slid to his waist and she could see his right arm sprawled outward across the bed as if searching for her presence. He looked so peaceful and adorable that she wondered why she was still standing in the doorway.   
  
Moving quickly to her side of the bed she lay down and shifted her body so that she was snuggled up against his chest. Automatically his arm curled round her and it was all she could do not melt at the comfort and security his presence brought.   
  
She was grateful that he was with her during this. When her father had told her that her double agent status had been compromised she had barely had time to think, to comprehend it's meaning. Her training had not fully prepared her for leaving all that was dear to her behind, how could it? Yes she had been well aware of the risks of becoming a double agent but some naïve part of her had assumed that her abilities and her allies would keep her safe. That the whole idea of karma would come around with a ferocious swing and kick Sloane's ass to hell not long after she started this whole tirade.   
  
But even after all their efforts, their blood, their sweat and tears she had to grudgingly accept that for the moment Sloane was winning. SD-6 was still in operation and her sole mission now was to stay alive long enough for the CIA to capture him so she could testify against him.  
  
_Sloane was winning   
_  
That was the worst part of this whole thing. Not the miles they had covered, the changes made to their lives or the fear that was a constant part of their every move. No the worst part was that SD-6 was still in operation and Sloane still had control over her life. She could feel the anger ooze through her body as she imagined her former boss, at his desk continuing to gather crucial artefacts and information that would tighten his hold over the underworld and add to his power. And all she could do now about it was to stay alive.  
  
She sighed and shifted slightly to her left to get into a better position. Reaching down she pulled at the duvet cover and brought it up to her shoulders. She grabbed at the corner of it and snuggled into the mattress, trying hard to make her mind devoid of any thoughts.  
  
She listened to the sounds around her hoping that they would ease her into a dreamless sleep; the ticking of the clock on the wall, the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of Vaughn's heartbeat. She prayed that sleep would soon overcome her and she would be free from worry for a few hours.  
  
She hoped for that every time she climbed into bed, that the nightmares would let up for one night and just for once her dreams would be exactly that, dreams of a better life, where her and Vaughn were finally free to experience the normalcy of being a couple. She imagined going to a hockey game, holding his hand and kissing him in front of anyone and everyone, picturing them sitting in the arena not worrying if they had been spotted by an ally of SD-6.  
  
She could feel the tears slowly start to fall down her cheeks and she brushed them away fiercely, berating herself for once again letting her guard down. Letting Sloane get to her like this only succeeded in another victory for him, and she would rather die than allow that to happen.  
  
Releasing a deep sigh she rubbed her hand across her eyes in frustration. She knew why sleep evaded her; before he had gone to bed Vaughn had reminded her of what they needed to talk about tomorrow, and it was now preying on her mind. Tomorrow would bring change and she wasn't sure she could take anymore.   
  
Tightening her hold on Vaughn she imagined their life before this had happened and willed the calmness and happiness of her thoughts to send her to sleep.

The next morning after Vaughn had left for work, Sydney sat quietly at the small wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and stared thoughtfully at the items that lay neatly in front of her. Rays of sunshine glided in through the closed window reflecting off the objects and encompassing the small room in a warm glow. It was a mystery then to her that with such warmth enveloping her why she was starting to shiver.  
  
Grasping at the thin cardigan that had been unceremoniously slung over a neighbouring chair, she struggled with a deep sense of weariness to get her arms into it.   
  
She was grateful for the moment of distraction and it was with severe reluctance and apprehension that she returned her gaze to the table. Chewing her lip nervously she realised that it had been close to twenty minutes since she had first sat down at the table to make her decision and she was still unsure as to which item to choose.   
  
She sighed hard and cursed herself for her indecisiveness. It usually did not take this long. Usually the decision was made in an instant and that was that. It was done and dusted, she selected an alias, memorised the details on it and then brought the details to life. In the past she had never given the process much thought so it puzzled her now why switching aliases was causing her such mental anguish.  
  
In the beginning of this life altering change she had just grabbed randomly at any alias, uncaring about what it entailed or what she would be required to do to make it believable, just as long as it meant their survival The challenge was simple in its undertaking, after all she had been trained so wholeheartedly by her former employer to make these situations believable, so why should it be a problem when it entailed reversing the roles and deceiving them? She had been doing it successfully for three years, conveying the illusion that Sydney Bristow was a loyal and dedicated employee for SD-6. That every time Arvin Sloane came within three feet of her she didn't want to grab his throat and wring every shred of life out of him.   
  
It actually felt satisfying using the very training SD-6 had given her to bring the organisation down. It felt like she could finally use her skills for good and make up for all the operations she had carried out unknowingly, all the people that had been hurt.  
  
Her past experiences with SD-6 and then the CIA had taught her that she had skill at what she did. So when now required to assume a new identity and convince people that she was that person, that it was Sydney Bristow that was the façade not the character she was portraying, she had embraced it unequivocally. You see it was all just a ruse, a disguise to deceive those around her and help them live a little longer. It meant nothing when compared to the overall objective that had to be achieved - their survival.   
  
_Hi, I'm Sara Watson.  
  
Hello, my name is Rebecca Reeves.  
  
Nice to meet you, I'm Jessica Fields  
  
_At the start the façade was practically mechanistic in instigation. They had a variety of roles that they could slip into at a moments notice. She selected and read the brief on her alias, put on the outfit, and then slip into her character's role, with a fake smile to match. It was what she had been trained to do.  
  
But after a while she had become to notice that her training had started to fail on her. He readiness for her next façade seemed to be slowly diminishing. Perhaps it was because the aliases were long-term operations. They were not like her old missions where she was in and out within a few days at most. Now she was constantly on her guard during nearly every aspect of her life. Going to work, going to the local shop for groceries, nothing was normal, the way it used to be.   
  
A little while later she came up with the notion of playing a quick verbal game to help her make the decision about which alias to choose. It kept her mind active thinking up mind puzzles and created a small of amount of something that had been almost nonexistent in her life recently - fun.   
  
However this time making the decision seemed beyond her reach as her mind at the moment was almost comparable to a tomb, dark and lifeless. It was too occupied with guarding over the sacred remains of what was once an untouchable haven for her wonderful memories...... memories that she probably would never be able to recreate and saviour again.  
  
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut she tried hard to remember one of the numerous nights in that France, Will and herself had participated in. But the image was just a fleeting glance; faded, incomplete. Her old memories were getting mixed in with the new ones now that she created for herself each time she undertook a new alias.   
  
Last week at the diner where she worked a colleague had asked about her family whilst making small talk. She had created a story in which her parents were still happily married and her mother was a teacher and her father sold aeroplane parts. The words slipped off her lips so easily that she had begun to believe them herself. With a slump of the shoulders and a sorrowful sigh released somewhere from a guarded part of her heart did she accept that the anecdotes that had been relayed to her colleague were all fabrication. It was fortunate that she been sweeping the floor with her back to the other waitress so the woman had not seen the tears streaming down her face. She had not seen her despair as she slowly realised that that was not her character's background but instead what had once been reality for her. Now it was just the remnants of another masquerade.   
  
A few days after that she had begun to realise that she was starting to get too immersed in her characters, wanting to submerge herself in the façade to forget about Sydney Bristow's life for a while. Sarah, Rebecca, Jessica...they were not on the run, trying desperately to hide from a despicable monster who wanted them dead. No their lives were simple; get up, kiss their fiancé, have breakfast, go to work, come home, and fall asleep in their fiancés arms knowing that there was nowhere safer to be.  
  
_God how she wanted that life.   
_  
How much did she desperately want to be Sarah or Rebecca or Jessica, even for just a moment, so not to have this despair and fear hanging over her, enveloping her at every turn? What would her life had been like if she had really been one of her alias?   
  
_Would I swap lives if I could?  
_  
She quickly shook her head vehemently at the thought. The alias were not real, they were just characters in an extremely sick play that came to a close the moment she stepped through the doorway into her apartment, The moment when Michael greeted her with a "hey Syd" and took her into his arms and kissed her so deeply that she knew she didn't want to be anyone else. She only wanted to be "his" Sydney. That was what was possibly the only thing real in her life now.  
  
Perhaps that was the problem. Every time she undertook an alias it became a part of her and now she didn't know what part of her was real anymore. She had become so many people on this journey for survival, undertook her roles with such passionate desperateness that she had trouble leaving the character behind now.   
  
That was the problem with lying. You get caught up in the web you spin yourself and sometimes reality gets confused with fiction. Would she even remember her real name in time to come?   
  
_My name is Sydney Bristow......my name is Sydney Bristow_  
  
She hated that the only time Sydney Bristow seemed real anymore was in this one apartment. She hated being able to lie so easily, be so convincing that she almost convinced herself. Did that make her such a bad person?  
  
She looked down at the table again. Sighing at her obvious indecisiveness she slowly pushed herself up from the chair and wandered aimlessly over to the window. The sun was making its last appearance for the day and was creating a beautiful finale. The bright colours gleamed across the skyline in an array of wonder and it gave her hope that some things did end so beautifully. Perhaps they would too. They had been on the run now from SD-6 for 189 days, moving from city to city, assuming alias after alias. She knew it had been exactly 189 days because she kept a piece of paper in her pocket with a mark for each day. Sure the paper was rather torn and ragged but it didn't tarnish the image of what the paper symbolised. With every new mark on the paper it reminded her of what they had achieved together.   
  
Pulling the worn paper out of her pocket she ran her finger over the black marks scrawled haphazardly across the page. 6 months, it had to be a record surely. No one had evaded Security Section this long, it deserved celebrating. Maybe she should inform Guinness. She chuckled lightly at the thought.  
  
_Hi yes it's Sydney Bristow here. I am being hunted by a secret organisation that illegally trades in information and weapons and have been on the run for a grand total of 189 days now. Could you tell me if that's a new world record please?  
_  
She quickly returned the precious item to the safety of her pocket and placed her finger on the cool glass of the window. As she aimlessly moved it across the pane, creating a random pattern in the condensation she glanced at the clock in the kitchen and wondered at the time. She wished it were later so that Michael would be home. He had managed to get a day shift at the bar where he worked so that they could spend a rare evening together and discuss their future plans. They knew that it was time to leave, that spending too much time in one place would be suicidal but she actually liked where they were living this time.   
  
Perhaps that was causing the problem this time. Usually she just grabbed at any I.D but for some reason this time was different. Maybe she was getting tired of running. Maybe she was sick of the idea that Sloane was winning, that he had such power and control over her life. Or maybe it was just because she actually had the feeling of security and settlement here. They had made an effort to settle here and had started decorating the apartment to make it a little more homely.   
  
Her favourite item that they had bought was a large picture of the sun setting over the ocean, taken from an old pier. They had seen it in a charity shop window and had fallen in love with it the moment they had seen it. Every time they moved Michael made sure to wrap it up carefully and pack it safely among their scarce belongings. It was the first thing they unpacked when they moved into a place, not that they had a lot to unpack. There were some clothes, a few photographs (one of the two of them in the beautiful frame that Michael had bought her. She had refused to part with it), and a few books. But her second favourite item was the picture. Sydney loved to stand in front of it and gaze at, transfixed. It was like they had a piece of home always with them and it always reminded her of when she realised that Michael Vaughn was more than just her handler, that she wanted him to be more than her handler. Looking back she had realised that she had given Vaughn a piece of her heart that night, and he his.   
  
She could see them living here permanently, settling down to married life. However that was a mistake that someone with her background and training should quickly realise. That type of thinking was not advantageous in her situation. She could not afford to feel safe or complacent about her surroundings. This wasn't home, it never would be. Until they got the message that things were safe for them home would always be out of reach.   
  
Her gaze was drawn back to the table and she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.  
  
_Who would she be this time?_   
  
Sighing she sat back down at the table and grabbed at the passport and driver's licence to her left. She clenched it tightly in her hand and thought of Vaughn.What did it matter who she became? At the end of the day it was all just a masquerade, it wasn't real. Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn were what were real. One day this would be over, they would be free, happy, and as always in love.  
  
_In love.  
_  
She paused for a moment, unconsciously turning the driver's licence over in her hands. She suddenly realised that there was one major constant with all of her aliases, one similarity that never disappeared no matter who she became: she always had his love, she would always have Vaughn.  
  
_The more things change, the more they stay the same.  
_  
That was the key, she realised. Sloane could hunt her for an eternity, could try to break her mentally and physically but he could never dampen the major source of her strength, the one thing she could always draw energy from. She sat up in the chair with a fierce determination that had been missing from her life recently and contemplated the events that had put her on this path. She thought about Danny and of Vaughn and the sacrifices all of them had made.  
  
She stared hard at the documents in front of her, memorising the details. Sloane was not going to win. Even if it meant being on the run indefinitely she would get justice for Danny, for Vaughn, for everyone Sloane had hurt. She glanced up at the picture on the wall and thought back to that night on the pier with Vaughn.   
  
Love was what had started this tirade and love would be what would finish it. 


End file.
